


I Heard You

by EchoSilverWolf



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Divergent, Ficlet, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, No Mary here, Not Beta Read, Post-Reichenbach, Prompt Fic, mention of past attempted suicide, slight angst, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 00:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoSilverWolf/pseuds/EchoSilverWolf
Summary: Prompt fic with a twistOriginal prompt (meme)A minor injury results in John getting ahold of Sherlock's medical file where he discovers a younger sherlock had attempted suicide. When they get home, John holds his flatmate all night and never tells him why.Prompt twist:JOHN gets injured. Bored sherlock in hospital confiscates his chart and finds JOHN had attempted suicide. Once immediately after his release from the military, before meeting Sherlock.  No one knows. It was made to look like an accident but Sherlock sees through it in and realizes what really happened...Also, sort of prompted by some lovely fan art.





	I Heard You

**Author's Note:**

> Not Betaed
> 
> For Johnlock Fan fiction Facebook group
> 
> Please forgive any mistakes.
> 
>  

Sherlock sighed and shifted in his chair. John was asleep _again_ , the hospital monitors beeping out the steady rhythm of his heart beat. It wasn't a serious injury. Some stitches and a moderate concussion following being hit with the butt of a gun to the head. He had been allowed to sleep 2 hours at a time while still under hospital watch. Of course Sherlock had not left the room since they arrived. Hassling doctors and aggravating nurses just for something to _do_.

Standing up to stretch he notices one of the doctors had left johns chart across the room on a bed table.

John would call it “a bit not good” but could he blame him? Sitting quietly was absolutely tedious, and besides he already knows almost everything about his flatmate as it is. It's just something to read...

He resumes his seat next to his sleeping friend propping his feet up on the foot of the bed and begins to flip through pages of lab work and previous emergency visits; smiling at the memory of the cases that caused them. Further back some  physical therapy notes for his shoulder and some notes on Post Traumatic Stress, the dates now occurring before their time as flatmates.

The following papers are fastened together under a letterhead from St Thomas and dated most likely within the month John had returned to London. Curious as to why he would have chosen somewhere other than St Bart's, Sherlock flips the letterhead up.

**72 hour involuntary Mental Health Detainment, section 4.**

Sherlock glances nervously at his still sleeping friend before returning to the papers in his lap.

_Sectioned? John?_

Scanning the documents, he lets out a small gasp.

**35 year old male.**

**Overdose.**

**Prescription opiates and alcohol.**

**Patient claims accidental**

**Admitted through St. Thomas A &E by way of ambulance.**

**Patient unresponsive.**

**Accompanied by female sibling, H. Watson.**

**Family member states patient found incoherent at his residence.**

**_Family member requests mental health hold_ **

**_RE: SUICIDE WATCH_ **

The last words turning over and over in his mind, the pieces start to fall into place after looking through the notes twice.

Overdose. Oxycontin(most likely prescribed for shoulder pain) and alcohol.

Unresponsive on arrival. Respiratory distress. Code blue called. Cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Defibrillator. Intubation.

Narcan and stomach pumping had been the result after stabilization.

Psychiatric consult called in. Placed on section 4 hold. 72 hour **Suicide watch**.

 _This is why she gave him the phone...and also why he avoids speaking to her._ _Harriet saved his life, and he did not forgive her for doing so._

_John, taken from the war that gave him purpose. Invalided back to London. No job. No family, besides an estranged, alcoholic sister. Living on a scant army pension. So alone. Unneeded. A soldier without a war. A doctor without a patient._

_John. My John. Brave, kind, loyal John...gave up._

The thought that this man who had become the one person to keep _him_ from harm so many times, who kept  him _right_ -had once been on the other side with _no one_ there to help him, causes his stomach to turn.

Those words...at his fake grave

_“I was so alone, and I owe you so much”_

He had never understood the depth of what his friend had meant.

_I had thought that our meeting saved me...when really, we saved each other._

He just sits. Staring at the papers in his hands. The realization hitting that in just a slight change of events, John Watson could have died before they ever met.

John Watson had felt unneeded.

John Watson had thought he didn't matter.

John Watson is _the only thing_ that matters.

A hand settles atop his own bringing him back to the here and now.

A sleep-rough voice asking if he is ok.

Then, the file, being pulled gently from his hands.

He glances up guiltily, through his lashes, expecting John to be angry, but sees only the same sadness he feels reflected there.

“I had nothing and no one. No job. No friends. No family. No purpose. Constant nightmares.  No reason to keep going, no one needed…OOPH!”

Before John can finish, 6 feet of wiry detective is suddenly collapsed into his lap, head buried in his stomach and long arms wrapped around him. The file, scattered on the floor.

John rests his hand in the younger man's hair as a muffled, barely audible, response is issued into his blankets.

John's hand stills at the words. Sherlock raises wide pale eyes to meet his friend's.

“I will _always_ need you, John” he utters softly, “I will always…i have always...”

Army calloused fingers trace his cheek, as John replies,“Shhh. I know... _i heard you_ ”, before pulling him against his chest and leaning forward to claim a tentative, nervous  kiss from the man who had made his life worth living again


End file.
